Can You Tell Me Why?
by bookdiva
Summary: Continuation of 610 where Brennan and Hannah are at the bar! Better than it sounds! Reviews are appreciated!
1. The Reasons

It had been silly to think that her friendship with Temperance would change. Looking back, Hannah knew that. But it still made her uncomfortable to realize that there was so much more to Seeley and Temperance's partnership than met the eye. Pushing all these thoughts to the back of her mind, Hannah watched Temperance throw back yet another drink. Hannah had stopped about ten drinks back and Temperance was effectively drunk.

"Temperance, I think you ought to stop," she said. "You won, fair and square. You can stop now."

Temperance just laughed, "I don't know what a square has to do with fairness," she stated, "but I do know that I'm not going to stop now. Do you know how good this feels? I haven't felt this good since I met you!"

Hannah's eyes widened, but Temperance didn't seem to notice.

_She must be really drunk,_ Hannah thought. _She doesn't realize what she's saying._

"Temperance, maybe we should get you home," she said, trying to coax the intoxicated scientist to get up.

"No, I am quite comfortable here, but I thank you," Temperance said. "No, I know that we are still friends," she said. Her words were slightly slurred. "I thought that, since you are my friend, you could help me with some," she lowered her voice and whispered, "_boy problems._" Then she fell into another fit of laughter.

"Um, sure?" Hannah said unsure of what her friend could mean.

"You see," Temperance began, "I wanted to ask you what you think about love. Do you believe that it is real?"

This question confused Hannah.

"What do you mean? Of-of course I believe in love," she said.

"Well, I don't," the anthropologist stated bluntly. Hannah just stared at her. This was the first time she actually understood why Seeley talked about Temperance the way he did. By all reasoning, the woman really didn't believe in love.

_How can this be? _Hannah wondered. _What…_

"Temperance, how could you not believe in love? How is that at all logical? There is proof all around you: Angela and Hodgins; myself and Seeley," she said.

"Ah, but you forget my profession," Temperance said coldly. The look in her eyes scared Hannah. "I have proof that will put yours to shame."

_What is she talking about? Who does she think she is?_ Hannah thought. Then she remembered that Temperance was beyond drunk. She didn't know what she was saying; she wouldn't even remember this conversation in the morning.

Facing this most interesting situation with the instincts of an award-winning journalist, Hannah decided to take the opportunity that had been given to her and find out everything she could about Seeley's past.

"Well, I guess I should have all the facts then," Hannah said. "Please, Temperance, tell me your reasoning."

Temperance smiled at her.

"I must say that I was once just like you," she said. She got a far-away look in her eyes.

This beginning confused Hannah even more. It was not the logical, large-worded, long-winded lecture she had been expecting. She had a feeling that she was about to see a side of Temperance that hardly anyone ever got to see. Though every part of Temperance's behavior was strange, none of it prepared Hannah for the next words her friend uttered.

"I believed in love too."

"You did?" Hannah asked. She was beyond shocked now. She forgot all about her plan to find out as much about Seeley as possible and just sat back and listened to Temperance.

"Yes, I did." She chuckled without humor. "There was…a man…I guess you could call him that. I must confess that it was love at first sight. And I hated him for that."

"You—you hated a man because you loved him?" Hannah asked. This seemed so illogical to her, and she was surprised that Temperance couldn't see it.

"Of course I did," Temperance said. She said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I hated him so much that I refused to work with him."

_Refused to work with…then we're not talking about Seeley? _Hannah felt a little relieved. For a moment, when Temperance had wanted to talk about _'boy problems'_, Hannah had been preparing herself to have to talk about another woman's love for her own boyfriend and she couldn't pretend that she wasn't relieved that this was not the case.

"It didn't last long though," Temperance continued. "He came back to me about a year later and needed my help. He had a case that was haunting him and, though it clearly pained him to admit it, he needed my unequaled expertise."

"How long ago was this?" Hannah asked.

"About six years ago," Temperance answered. And just like that, Hannah knew they _were _talking about Seeley. "Anyway, he had fired me the first time we'd worked together. He fired me after getting me excessive alcohol—though I wasn't drunk—kissing me, and almost sleeping with me. I—I ran away from him because I saw in his…well not in his eyes, because that's impossible…but I—I…perceived that if I—if I let him in, that there would be no going back. That I would never be the same and that he would have a power over me that I've never allowed. Not since…" she trailed off and was lost in her thoughts for a moment.

_Seeley did that to her? She's been in love with him for six years? And he was in love with her too. Is he still? _Though she was perfectly aware that it was irrational, she was very angry at Seeley, and for once, she was ok with the irrationality.

"Temperance," Hannah said. The woman beside her was startled out of her reverie.

"Oh, yes. My evidence, right well where was I?" she began. "Oh, right. So, since I was such an asset, the FBI demanded that they have a permanent liaison with the Jeffersonian and, therefore, me. He—he was the only one who could stand to work with me." Tears began to form in her eyes. "Over time, we became friends. I helped him through his gambling addiction and his therapy; I was there for him when he received the news about his brain tumor; he helped me when—when I was arrested for murder; I helped him when he had Parker and he had to work on weekends; he helped me when my dad was in jail and—and he gave us a Christmas. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't even know my family. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead—buried alive. If it wasn't for him, I'd be—I'd be whole." Temperance looked up at Hannah, "He—he told me that he loved me—in an 'atta-girl' way—like I was one of the guys. He got under every wall I put up. He—he said that he'd—that he'd prove me wrong. I—I thought he—I thought he really would."

"Prove you wrong on what, Temperance?" Hannah asked in a whisper. She was barely able to get the words out. Seeley had never shared any of these stories with her.

"He said he would prove to me that love exists. He said that he would prove to me that I had a heart. He said…he—he said that—that he would prove to me that I was—that I could be—be loved. He said—he—he lied!" Her voice had risen and she was now yelling.

"We were best friends, we were partners. Everyone who met us thought we were lovers too. And you know what? They were right. Other than the—than the…physical…he, we, I—we were. He was—he still is—everything to me." Tears trailed down her cheeks, and Hannah's heart broke for her. "Then he asked me to gamble on us."

Hannah asked, "What—what did you say?"

Temperance turned on Hannah, anger flashing in her eyes, and asked, "Do you think I would gamble the most important thing in my life on something that has the most illogical foundation in the—in the universe?" The anger faded and she said softly, "No, I couldn't do that. I knew, logically, from all of my experiences, that if I allowed him—if I allowed myself—this gamble, I would destroy my everything."

"Temperance," Hannah said, "you wouldn't have destroyed anything. How could you destroy…"

"I would have destroyed everything just by being myself. That's what all the evidence says. That is the only logical conclusion." She took a deep breath that shook her whole body. "He said he would prove all those things to me, but all he did was prove to me that I was right: love doesn't exist, and even if it did, I am un-loveable. The worst part, though, is that he showed me that I do have a heart." She paused. "It hurt less when I didn't know it was there."

Hannah didn't know what to say. Temperance was looking at her with cloudy, cold eyes, and Hannah didn't know what she was expected to say. Looking away from the broken woman in front of her, she glanced around. Her eyes fell on an even more broken looking man standing a few feet behind them.


	2. The Eaves Dropper

He had gotten a text from Hannah asking him to come and pick her and Bones up. Apparently they had both had a few too many to drive. When he pulled up to the old, familiar diner, he saw Hannah and Bones laughing at the bar. It was such a natural picture—most men would be happy that their best friend and their girlfriend got on so well—but it gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Then he noticed that Bones was the only one drinking. He'd never seen her drunk before, but she almost looked it now.

Thinking it best that he get in there and get them both home, he got out of the car and entered the diner. Neither woman seemed to notice his presence, so he took the opportunity to just watch them both for a moment.

He heard Bones laugh. It was louder and more uncontrolled than usual.

"I don't know what a square has to do with fairness," she stated, "but I do know that I'm not going to stop now. Do you know how good this feels? I haven't felt this good since I met you!"

_What? _Booth thought. _Did she really just say that? _Then he realized that she must be drunk—really drunk. Hannah seemed to be thinking the same as him for her eyes widened, but then she seemed understanding. Bones, however, didn't seem to notice Hannah's reaction.

"Temperance, maybe we should get you home," Hannah said in a persuasive voice. Booth made to move toward them, but Bones spoke again.

"No, I am quite comfortable here, but I thank you," Bones said, staying put. "No, I know that we are still friends," she said. Her words were slightly slurred. "I thought that, since you are my friend, you could help me with some," she lowered her voice and whispered something into Hannah's ear. Then she fell into another fit of that strange laughter. Booth was confused by her behavior. His Bones never acted like this.

"Um, sure?" Hannah sounded unsure of what Bones could mean. It made Booth wonder what she had whispered to Hannah. Though his conscience prompted him otherwise, he decided to just stay and listen for a minute—his curiosity getting the better of him.

"You see," Temperance began, "I wanted to ask you what you think about love. Do you believe that it is real?"

This question surprised Booth, and it looked like it both surprised and confused Hannah.

"What do you mean? Of-of course I believe in love," she said. She sounded uncertain.

"Well, I don't," the anthropologist stated bluntly. Hannah just stared at her. It seemed that Bones' answer surprised Hannah, but it didn't surprise Booth.

_Why is she asking Hannah about this? _Booth wondered. _What is she talking about? Everyone knows she doesn't believe in love. _A bitter feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it away and focused on the conversation of the two women in front of him.

"Temperance, how could you not believe in love?" Hannah argued. "How is that at all logical? There is proof all around you: Angela and Hodgins; myself and Seeley."

Booth winced at Hannah's last reference. He wasn't sure how his partner would react to that. He was right to be concerned. From the side, he saw her posture stiffen and he knew what was coming next.

"Ah, but you forget my profession," Bones said coldly. Booth could only picture her expression in his mind for she was turned away from him at the moment. "I have proof that will put yours to shame."

_What is she…what the hell does _that_ mean? _Booth wondered. She had never been able to give him satisfactory proof of love's nonexistence, and he had told her so. But Bones looked beyond drunk. She couldn't know what she was saying; she probably wouldn't even remember this conversation in the morning.

Hannah eyes flashed the way they did when she smelled a good story. The wave of protectiveness that swept through him almost knocked him off his feet. He didn't want Hannah probing at Bones like she was just some…some _informant_! Not the way she was right now—she was almost drunk for Heaven's sake!

"Well, I guess I should have all the facts then," Hannah said. It made him even angrier, but he also wanted to hear his partner's reasoning; he stayed silent and listened. "Please, Temperance, tell me your reasoning."

She turned and he saw Bones smile at her.

"I must say that I was once just like you," she said. She turned her head a little to the side, and her could see the far-away look in her eyes.

This beginning seemed to confuse Hannah even more, and Booth had to admit, it confused him too. It was not the logical, large-worded, long-winded lecture he had been expecting. Nothing prepared him for the next words his partner said.

"I believed in love too."

_What the…no you don't! _

He wanted to scream at her. What she was saying was a lie. She'd never—_never_—believed in love.

"You did?" Hannah asked. She looked shocked and seemed to lose the fire that had lit up her eyes earlier. She just sat back and listened to Bones.

"Yes, I did." Bones chuckled the same awful, hallow, broken chuckle that she had when she'd said…it was the same awful sound that she had made in the car—after the Lauren Eames case. "There was…a man…I guess you could call him that. I must confess that it was love at first sight. And I hated him for that."

_She never told me…I thought we told each other everything! _Booth thought.

Everything she was saying went against everything he had ever thought about his partner—everything she had ever said about herself. It was as though he had never known her. He was rooted to the spot when Hannah spoke next.

"You—you hated a man because you loved him?" Hannah asked. This seemed so illogical to her, and she was surprised that Temperance couldn't see it.

"Of course I did," Temperance said. She said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and to her, it was the most obvious reaction that a person could have. "I hated him so much that I refused to work with him."

_Refused to work with…_Booth thought. Damn but this story was sounding awfully familiar to him. Maybe she had mentioned it, but he found that hard to believe. He would have remembered; he always remembered what she told him. 

"It didn't last long though," Temperance continued. "He came back to me about a year later and needed my help. He had a case that was haunting him and, though it clearly pained him to admit it, he needed my unequaled expertise."

_She's talking about me? _Booth thought. That was why the story sounded so familiar. It was their story. He could see it now, but he still couldn't understand it.

"How long ago was this?" Hannah asked.

"About six years ago," Temperance answered. "Anyway, he had fired me the first time we'd worked together. He fired me after getting me excessive alcohol—though I wasn't drunk—kissing me, and almost sleeping with me. I—I ran away from him because I saw in his…well not in his eyes, because that's impossible…but I—I…perceived that if I—if I let him in, that there would be no going back. That I would never be the same and that he would have a power over me that I've never allowed. Not since…" she trailed off and was lost in her thoughts for a moment.

She let him in, she said so herself. He knew what she'd been about to say. Not since her family abandoned her. She let him in and he had…

So it was him she was talking about. So what? He had done all those things. He still didn't see how that proved that love wasn't real. How could he, of all people—the one determined to prove to her that love _was real_—have anything to do with her disbelief of love?

Hannah's voice broke him out of his thoughts

"Temperance," Hannah said. The woman beside her was startled out of her reverie. It seemed Bones had also been lost in thought. He wondered what she was thinking—she didn't seem like her normal, rational self at the moment.

"Oh, yes. My evidence, right well where was I?" she began. Her voice took on the squinty quality that was all business. Any other time it would have made him laugh. Now, however, it just tore at his already hurting heart.

"Oh, right. So, since I was such an asset, the FBI demanded that they have a permanent liaison with the Jeffersonian and, therefore, me," she continued. "He—he was the only one who could stand to work with me." Her hand swiped across her face as if she were wiping away tears. "Over time, we became friends. I helped him through his gambling addiction and his therapy; I was there for him when he received the news about his brain tumor; he helped me when—when I was arrested for murder; I helped him when he had Parker and he had to work on weekends; he helped me when my dad was in jail and—and he gave us a Christmas. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't even know my family. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead—buried alive. If it wasn't for him, I'd be—I'd be whole." Temperance looked up at Hannah, "He—he told me that he loved me—in an 'atta-girl' way—like I was one of the guys. He got under every wall I put up. He—he said that he'd—that he'd prove me wrong. I—I thought he—I thought he really would."

As he stood there and listened to all the times she had been there for him; all the times she had stood by him; all the fires she had walked him through; as he listened to her recount the small things he had done in return, he felt like the most selfish man in the world. She regarded herself as lucky to have him, but the truth was, he was lucky that he had her, in whatever way she would allow. He wasn't sure that he even really _had_ any part of her anymore—not after that night in the car.

"Prove you wrong on what, Temperance?" Hannah asked in a whisper. She seemed like she was barely able to get the words out. Booth felt just a little guilty at the confusion in her voice; he had never shared any of these stories with her. It had never seemed—right. But Hannah had caught the line that Booth didn't want to focus on. She had thought that he would _prove her wrong_? He couldn't think about that and keep his life the way he knew he needed to keep it.

"He said he would prove to me that love exists," she said. And there it was: the root of the matter, what he had feared she would say. "He said that he would prove to me that I had a heart. He said…he—he said that—that he would prove to me that I was—that I could be—be loved. He said—he—he lied!" Her voice had risen and she was now yelling. Booth had never seen his partner this upset, this out of control. And it was entirely his fault. He knew that, yet the urge to take out whoever it was that was hurting his partner like this still surged through him. Pity there wasn't some sad bloke to take his anger out on. He hated himself for proving her right. He saw, and he understood.

"We were best friends, we were partners. Everyone who met us thought we were lovers too. And you know what? They were right. Other than the—than the…physical…he, we, I—we were. He was—he still is—everything to me." Tears trailed down her cheeks, and Hannah's heart broke for her. "Then he asked me to gamble on us."

_We still are best friends,_ Booth thought. It was a reflex, even in thought.

_Oh, sure you are! When was the last time you saw her?_

_Yesterday, _he thought immediately.

_At work…how about outside of work? _

And that he couldn't even remember.

Over at the bar, Hannah looked even more sad and confused. She asked, "What—what did you say?" The words seemed to stick in her throat.

Temperance turned on Hannah, anger flashing in her eyes, and for a second Booth thought she might do something irrational. Bus she just asked, "Do you think I would gamble the most important thing in my life on something that has the most illogical foundation in the—in the universe?" The anger faded and she said softly, "No, I couldn't do that. I knew, logically, from all of my experiences, that if I allowed him—if I allowed myself—this gamble, I would destroy my everything."

_If she allowed _herself_ the gamble? _So she had been denying herself as much as she had been denying him. She thought that she would destroy everything they had, that was nothing new—she had said as much outside the Hoover, but had he said anything to make her think otherwise?

"Temperance," Hannah said, moving to comfort her friend, "you wouldn't have destroyed anything. How could you destroy…" Bones pulled away from her.

"I would have destroyed everything just by being myself. That's what all the evidence says. That is the only logical conclusion." She took a deep breath that shook her whole body. "He said he would prove all those things to me, but all he did was prove to me that I was right: love doesn't exist, and even if it did, I am un-loveable. The worst part, though, is that he showed me that I do have a heart." She paused. "It hurt less when I didn't know it was there."

It was obvious that Hannah didn't know what to say. Bones was looking at her with cloudy, cold eyes, but Booth was shocked into silence by the words his partner had just said. He couldn't believe he had done that to her. Hannah looked away from his broken partner, and she glanced around. Her eyes fell on him standing a few feet behind them. And just like that, his delusional life with Hannah fell down around him.

***(A/N)* Thank you to all of my reviewers! I was amazed by the response. And for those who are expecting a Booth-Max show down, I do not plan to disappoint! I might even throw Angela and Cam in for good measure! Now if only that could happen on the show…(sigh) but we must keep the hope alive. You can keep mine alive be reviewing. Or writing stories! I love to read other people's point of view! Hope something like this happens on the show soon! **


	3. The Break Up

She saw him before he could mask his expression. Clearing his throat, he said,

"Um, I uh got your text and I'm, uh, here to pick you up."

"Seeley," she said slowly, "are you ok?" When he didn't comment, she whispered, "How much of that did you hear?"

Thinking that he had probably heard most of the conversation, he told her, "Most of it I think."

Bones turned around and looked surprised to see him.

"Agent Booth," she said, "I'm surprised to see you here, this is a personal outing. What are you doing? Do we have a case?"

Her tone and the way she said _'Agent Booth'_ made him feel strange. Had it really come down to this? After all their years of friendship, when she saw him outside of work she immediately thought it was work related—that they had a case? How could she assume…

He felt guilt well up inside of him. It wasn't an assumption. To her, it was just putting together the facts; it was the logical conclusion. That didn't change the fact that it was wrong, but it did make Booth see, just a little, that his partner was hurting.

"I'm, uh here to take you and Hannah home, Bones." He looked back and forth between the two women trying to figure out how each would react.

Her brow crinkled up and she looked up at him. There was confusion, pain, anger, and something else that looked like determination in her eyes. It was silent and tense between the three people for a minute.

"I would prefer," Bones said slowly, coldly, "that you address me as Dr. Brennan."

Both Booth and Hannah looked at her in shock.

"Excuse me?" Booth said angrily.

At the same time that Hannah said, "Temperance!"

"I find your nickname most unprofessional," she said. "Hannah is my friend, because I must say that we are very similar, so she can call me by my first name. And though you are her boyfriend, you are also my professional partner. As we are not friends in our personal lives, as the evidence shows, I would prefer that you address me as a professional," she continued. Then she added, "Even on these rare occasions that we meet outside of work." Then she spun on her heal and headed for the door.

Booth reacted on reflex and reached out and caught her arm. He couldn't believe what she was saying, but he also knew that she was right. And, sadly, he had no evidence to convince her otherwise. But instead of dwelling on his own guilt, he focused on his anger. Who was she to say that to him? She had hurt him first.

_So does that make it ok for you to purposely hurt her now?_ a voice asked.

He ignored it.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded. "Bones, you are not walking home like this. You don't even know what you're saying." He took a deep breath. She didn't know what she was saying. He had to keep reminding himself of that. "Come on Bones, Hannah and I will drive you home." That was the wrong thing to say. He pulled on her arm. He should have expected the resistance he met, but he didn't.

"I am _not _going home. That would be like going to hell. And yes, I am walking—I'll walk wherever I want to. I am perfectly fine, and I know exactly—_exactly Booth—_what I am saying," she hissed. In her anger she slipped back to using her comfortable name for him: Booth. "Finally," she continued, "I am not going _anywhere_ with you." Turning to Hannah she said with forced pleasantry, "Thank you for the lovely night. I actually enjoyed your companionship. I hope that you will think about what I have said. My evidence should be considered before it is thrown out." She turned back to Booth once more, any sign of pleasantry long gone. "Hannah is still my friend, Agent Booth. However, you have said many times that what is between us is ours. I would appreciate if, in the future, you would stick to your promises. The same as I did."

She jerked her arm out of Booth's grasp and strutted out the door. Booth watched her go, debating over whether or not to go after her and force her to get into the car, trying to understand what she had meant. Hannah, however, made the choice for him.

"So," she said, "I guess you heard all of that. Um…" she trailed off.

"Look, Hannah, I'm sorry," Booth said trying to salvage his relationship with Hannah. It was hard to concentrate, but he forced himself to. He forced himself not to think of his drunken partner who was headed only God knows where. "Bones was drunk and—"

"Why do you insist on calling her Bones?" Hannah asked interrupting him. She almost looked angry, but there was suspicion in her eyes too. "Why is it so hard for you to listen to what she was saying and just call her Dr. Brennan? I thought you were always saying that you were just her partner, maybe her friend, but never more than that. What was all this she was telling me tonight?" When Booth hesitated she sighed and said,"Please don't lie to me, Seeley. Why haven't you told me anything about yourself—your past? Why does she know things that I don't? Why does she get to know more of you than I do?"

Hannah looked really stricken, and Booth felt even guiltier. There really was no good reason that he'd never shared these things with Hannah. It was like Bones had said: what was between them was theirs.

How could he have been so stupid as to tell Hannah about his partner's gamble? How could he have been so clinical, so logical? When had he become…what Bones had been when they'd met?

"What's between us is ours," he said quietly. Hannah's eyes flashed angrily up at him. "Look, Hannah I'm really sorry. I should have realized before but I didn't, or maybe I couldn't. I really don't know. But I do know that I—that I never stopped…" he looked at Hannah, beseeching her to understand.

"You never stopped loving her," she whispered. There was a pause, and then Hannah said, "I think I understand. Oh sure, not the whole thing," she said at his look. "I mean. I really thought you were a decent person."

"Hannah, I didn't mean to hurt you," Booth said quickly.

_How could she think I would hurt her on purpose?_

Hannah laughed.

"Oh, I know that," she said in a hard voice. "But that's not at all what I meant. It's just the way you've treated—the way you _are treating_—your partner. The man I never knew until tonight would never do what you are doing. You're hurting her Seeley."

"Yes," he said quietly. "But she…she told me to move on. I was only trying to…to do what she'd asked me to."

"Did she ask you to move on, or did you tell her you'd move on?" Hannah asked. Her words took a moment to sink in, but once they had, he finally saw everything clearly. He saw that night—outside the Hoover—through his partner's eyes. He finally understood.

"I—" he began. She cut him off.

"I can see that you love her, Seeley, and you heard what she said—she loves you too," she said. "I'm not saying she realizes it, or even saying that she likes you, but she does love you," she continued when he began to argue. "You once made it your mission to try to prove to her that love is real." She looked up at him. "Don't just try this time; do it."

Booth didn't know what to say. Hannah seemed to know his life better than he himself did.

"Thank you Hannah," he said. "And I know it doesn't help, but I really am sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"I know you didn't," she said. She reached over and hugged him. "I'll be ok. You just make sure you take care of my friend. Temperance deserves happiness; she has been waiting and suffering for too long."

And then she was gone. Where Booth had thought he'd feel pain, he felt relief. He hoped that, someday, Hannah would find someone who could love her right, and he hoped that he and Bones could find their way back to where they once were.

Thinking her name brought back the memory of her drunken form stumbling out, all alone, into the dark night. The worry that had prickled his conscience earlier now consumed him.

She'd said she didn't want to go home—that it was like hell to her. He didn't want to focus on the probable reasons for that at the moment. Instead, he got into his car, backed out of the parking lot, and drove slowly along the roads to the Jeffersonian, looking for her walking figure.

Ahead he saw flashing lights. And then he saw her.

_No! No, no, no, no!_ It was only one word, but it was all that he could think as he raced toward her.


	4. The Distance

"Um, I uh got your text and I'm, uh, here to pick you up." She stiffened at the sound of his voice; it was so close behind her. Brennan couldn't believe that he was behind her—how much of her lecture to Hannah had Booth heard? Would he think she was trying to break them up?

_Isn't that what you want him to think?_ She asked herself. _Distance, distance, distance. _

"Seeley," Hannah said slowly, only sounding a little surprised, "are you ok?" When he didn't comment, she whispered, "How much of that did you hear?"

He couldn't have heard her rant; he wouldn't have stood there and eaves dropped. That wasn't like Booth. He wouldn't have done that…he couldn't have…

"Most of it I think." And just like that, her prior knowledge of Booth vanished, and she realized that he was no longer the man she'd known. He was capable of anything now.

Steeling herself, she turned around and tried to look surprised to see him.

"Agent Booth," she said in a politely disinterested voice, "I'm surprised to see you here, this is a personal outing. What are you doing? Do we have a case?"

Her tone and the way she said _'Agent Booth'_ were meant to convey her newfound dislike for his behavior as well as the distance she now required from him. They were meant to make him realize that he needed to take a step back from her, but it seemed that he didn't understand her hidden meaning; maybe he didn't know her as well as he said he did.

Guilt flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the emotion she hated the most: pity.

"I'm, uh here to take you and Hannah home, Bones." He looked back and forth between the two women as if he were trying to figure out how each would react.

She felt her brow crinkle up in her confusion at his caring tone, and she looked up at him. It had been so long since she'd heard any caring in his voice when he talked to her that it hurt to hear it now when she knew she had to push him away. And because it hurt, because she had more pain to pile on top of what he'd already caused her, she was angry. He, the one who had promised never to hurt her; he, the one she'd believed; he was the one who was destroying her without a second thought. But she would follow through with her plan—there would be miles of distance between them soon, and not just emotionally. It was silent and tense between the three people for a minute.

"I would prefer," Brennan said slowly, coldly, "that you address me as Dr. Brennan."

Both Booth and Hannah looked at her in shock.

"Excuse me?" Booth said angrily, his eyes flashing down at her.

At the same time that Hannah said, "Temperance!"

His anger unnerved her a little, mostly because she knew it was masking his pain at her words, but she pressed on. She was determined to both give him separation from her and give herself distance from him and the pain that it was to be around him. If she were to continue with the plans that she'd already set in motion, she needed to start the distancing and separation now.

_Distance, distance, distance,_ she chanted.

"I find your nickname most unprofessional," Temperance said. She knew it was a lie, but she knew that if she were to move on, she needed to start distancing herself, just as he had. He had to give her the distance she had given him. Why wasn't he giving it to her? Though it was hard, she was convinced it would be better in the long run. "Hannah is my friend, because I must say that we are very similar, so she can call me by my first name. And though you are her boyfriend, you are also my professional partner. As we are not friends in our personal lives, as the evidence shows, I would prefer that you address me as a professional," she continued. Then she added, "Even on these rare occasions that we meet outside of work." Then she spun on her heal and headed for the door, not wanting to see the pain that her words had inflicted.

Booth seemed to react on reflex, reached out and caught her arm. She knew, without looking at him, that he planned to argue with her statement that they weren't friends; he'd probably say that they were best friends. She didn't believe it, and there was nothing that he could say to make her believe it. There were no words that would suffice and no actions that he would be willing to consider.

Finally, she looked him in the eye. There was anger plain on his face, and if she hadn't known him so well, she would have simply thought he was angry with her. But she _did_ know him well, and she _did_ see what was under his mask of anger. He was hurt and he felt guilty. Her words had found their mark. She knew he was focusing on the anger because it was the easiest of all his emotions.

For a split second, the fact that she knew and understood all this irritated her. When had she become so adept at reading people? Then Booth spoke.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded. "Bones, you are not walking home like this. You don't even know what you're saying." He took a deep breath. His tone and the way he used his nickname for her flamed her already hot temper. "Come on Bones, Hannah and I will drive you home." That was the wrong thing to say. She lost all control on her anger when he said this and pulled on her arm. She stood her ground, not allowing him to pull her anywhere. He stumbled, not expecting the resistance.

"I am _not _going home. That would be like going to hell. And yes, I am walking—I'll walk wherever I want to. I am perfectly fine, and I know exactly—_exactly Booth—_what I am saying," she hissed. In her anger she slipped back to using her comfortable name for him: Booth. The walls that had been keeping her from saying what she wanted to fell and she was dangerously out of control. The scariest thing was that she didn't care. She knew she would regret that it had ended like this, but she didn't care. She was past logical and right. "Finally," she continued, "I am not going _anywhere_ with you." She's almost forgotten that Hannah was still there, but turning to the other woman, she said with forced pleasantry, "Thank you for the lovely night. I actually enjoyed your companionship. I hope that you will think about what I have said. My evidence should be considered before it is thrown out." Part of her thought she might like Hannah under different circumstances; she didn't want Hannah to be broken by Booth like she had been. Brennan turned back to Booth once more, any sign of pleasantry long gone. "Hannah is still my friend, Agent Booth. However, you have said many times that what is between us is ours. I would appreciate if, in the future, you would stick to your promises. The same as I did." When she had vowed she wouldn't allow him to be held back by her, that she would let him go, that she would not be a burden to him anymore. He had betrayed the trust she had put in him, and that hurt, but she wasn't going to do the same.

She jerked her arm out of Booth's grasp and strutted out the door. She didn't look back as she walked out the door; she didn't look as she walked past the window; she forced herself forward. She wouldn't look back—Booth was now in the past. Though most of her brain knew, logically, that he wouldn't follow her, the smaller, less logical part of her that was her heart longed for him to do just that. It upset her that she couldn't control these reactions.

There were angry tears in her eyes, and when she was out of sight of the diner, she realized that she was on her way to the Jeffersonian. Finding a bench on the sidewalk, she sat down and tried to gather her thoughts.

Why couldn't he just let her go? Why did he insist on being what they used to be when they both knew that what they used to be couldn't be again? Why did he have to call her Bones? Why did he hang on to that claim over her?

While all of these questions haunted her, they were the surface problems. There were deeper hurts that plagued her mind. How could he betray her trust? Hadn't he been the one to say that what was between them was theirs? So how could he justify telling Hannah and Sweets? Now everyone knew and she couldn't stand the way they looked at her; like she was so slow, so stupid—someone to be pitied.

Swiping at her eyes angrily, she stood and crossed the street. She didn't look, she really didn't care. She heard screeching tires as they tried to break, the loud blast of a car horn, and the next thing she knew, there was a searing pain in her side, and her head was hitting the pavement.

Her last conscious thought was, _At least I got that paperwork done. Booth won't be bothered. _


	5. The Hang Ups

_No! No, no, no, no!_ It was only one word, but it was all that he could think as he raced toward her.

She was lying on the ground, only a few feet in front of him, surrounded by EMTs. There was a man pacing around them.

"It was an accident!" he was telling a police officer. "I was driving and then suddenly she was there. I don't think she saw me coming. I didn't have time to stop."

The officer was nodding and taking down notes as the man spoke. Booth was paralyzed by the scene in front of him. It wasn't until the officer spoke again that he was able to snap out of it.

"Is it possible that she was committing suicide?" the officer asked, directing her question at the driver.

"Absolutely not," Booth said, making his presence known. "This is Dr. Temperance—"

"Brennan," the officer cut him off. "Thank you. We found her ID along with her emergency contact information."

"I am her emergency contact," Booth said. "Where are they taking her?" he asked motioning toward the EMTs putting his partner into the back of an ambulance. As he spoke, her head turned toward him. Her eyes were closed, and he knew that she was unconscious. He strained to stay controlled, knowing that was the only way he would be allowed to stay with her.

"George Washington University Hospital," the officer said. "I'm very glad you got our message, Mr. Keenan. You can go with her, if you'd like." She gestured toward the ambulance, "Please, if you'd like to go, hurry. It is critical that she get to the hospital as soon as possible."

_She thinks I'm Max?_ he wondered. He didn't ponder it long, and he didn't try to explain that he was _not_, in fact, Max Keenan. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to go with her, to stay be her side. She needed him.

_But does she want you here? _he asked himself as he climbed in the ambulance. It sped away and he climbed to her side, pushing all doubt and self loathing away for later. He would stay until she ordered him away. He would probably stay even when she ordered him away.

"Bones, baby, come on! You have to be strong and keep fighting. There are so many people who are going to be so worried. It's not just me, you know. Your dad, Russ, Angela—she's going to be a mess, she'll be so worried about you—and Hodgins, Cam, Caroline, Sweets, and all your squinterns. Our whole family depends on you, Bones. You can't just leave." Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "I know you think you have nothing to fight for, but you do. I know I haven't done a great job of proving it to you, but you have everything to fight for! I love you, Bones. I love you."

He slipped his hand into hers so she would know that he was there and that he wouldn't leave her side, but fell silent for the next minute. Suddenly there was a loud beeping, and the EMTs began to work frantically.

"Keep talking to her," one of the EMTs called to him. "Her vitals were stable while you were talking." Then he turned back to working on Bones. Booth didn't know what to say, so he just started talking from his heart; winging it.

"Bones, you have to fight. You have to stay here. When you get better, I promise I'll make everything right. I've missed you, Bones. Parker keeps bugging me about why we don't hang out anymore. He loves you too Bones."

"She's stabilizing!" the same EMT yelled. "Keep talking!"

"I've been stupid, Bones," Booth continued desperately. "You have to give me the chance to make things right. Or, give yourself the chance to kick me out of your life for good." He took a deep breath and held himself together. He knew that he couldn't fall apart now—she needed him. "I don't want you to, Bones," he continued. "I want to have the chance to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but I'll do whatever you want. But no matter what," he vowed fiercely, "no matter what, I promise you Bones that I'll never leave you again. Not even if you demand that I leave, I won't. I'll earn your trust back if it's the last thing I do."

"We're here!" another EMT's voice interrupted Booth's talking to Bones. "We need to get her to the OR. I'm sure she as severe internal bleeding." Turning to Booth he asked, "What is her blood type?"

"AB negative," he responded automatically. "She's AB negative."

"Great," the EMT said. "She'll need a transfusion immediately. Tell them to bring up two bags to start with." Then they rushed her out of the gurney and through automatic doors. He tried to follow her, but the EMT who had spoken to him earlier grabbed his arm.

"There is a waiting room through these doors," he said. "You can wait there with any other family members." When Booth started to protest, he continued,"I'm sorry, but she is in emergency surgery. You'll have to wait in the waiting area if you want to stay here and see her."

Hearing the finality in the man's voice, Booth thanked him and headed to the Emergency OR waiting room. It was completely empty. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, unable to bring himself to make any calls, though it probably wasn't more than five minutes, when his phone rang.

"Booth," he answered. He was startled at his own voice. It sounded so defeated.

"What's happened to my baby girl? Tell me she's ok! Tell me you took care of her!" a desperate voice came over the line.

"Max," Booth breathed over the line. "Where are you?" he asked. It pained him that he couldn't tell him either of the things he needed to hear, but there would be no truth if he answered either. He didn't know how Bones was, and he hadn't been there to take care of her.

"I'm on my way down to D.C.," he said. "I'll can be there in four hours, legally. What the hell happened, Booth?"

"She—she was hit by a car Max," Booth said. As he said it, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Bones was really fighting for her life because he hadn't been enough of a man to take care of her. If she made it, he would never make that mistake again. "She stepped out on to the street while she was walking back to the Jeffersonian; she didn't even look where she was going."

"What the hell was she doing walking to the Jeffersonian at this time of night?" Max asked the question Booth had been hoping he wouldn't. For now, however, Max didn't seem to expect an answer from him because he continued, "When did she arrive? What condition is she in?"

Booth sighed in relief. These were easy questions to answer.

"We arrived less than ten minutes ago," he said. "They took her to the OR immediately. I don't know how she is. She was unconscious when they took her to surgery, but I haven't seen any doctors since I arrived."

"I'll be there in two and a half hours, at the most," Max said.

"I thought you said you were still four hours out," Booth said.

"I'll be there in two and a half hours, at the most," Max repeated. Booth smiled a little.

"If you get a ticket," he said, "I can make it go away. Just be careful," he continued. "It won't help Bones when she wakes up to have to worry about you if you get hurt."

"Thank you Booth," Max said.

"Call me when you get here and I'll buzz you up," Booth said. "I have to go Max. Someone needs to call the team."

"I'll see you soon," Max said tersely. He swore under his breath then said, "Take care of her, Booth." He hung up.

Shutting his phone, he finally looked at the time.

_12:09_

He had to call everyone, and he'd better start with Angela. Reopening his phone, he dialed Hodgins's home phone number. He hoped that he got Hodgins and not the pregnant, over emotional Angela who was sure to freak out when she heard. At least some luck was with Booth because Hodgins answered on the fifth ring.

"I don't know who you are," Hodgins said, "but I'm not interested."

"Hodgins, wait! It's Booth!"

"Booth?" Hodgins asked. He sounded tired. "What the hell man? What's so urgent that it couldn't wait till morning?"

"Is Angela awake?" Booth asked. He knew that Hodgins would want to be very careful of how he broke the news to Angela.

"No, she's still asleep. Why? What's going on?" Worry crept into Hodgins's voice.

"It's Bones," Booth said. "She—was hit…by a car. It…it's not looking good."

"What?" Hodgins screamed into the phone. "We'll be right there. Which hospital is she at?"

"George Washington University," Booth replied.

"Good," Hodgins said. "I'll tell Angela, and we'll be there as soon as we can." Then he, too, hung up.

Next, Booth called Cam. She answered on the second ring.

"What is it Seeley?" she asked harshly.

"Bones was hit by a car, Cam," he said. "She's in Emergency Surgery now."Cam's response was instantaneous.

"Which hospital?" she asked.

"George Washington University," he answered.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she said. And then she hung up.

Booth supposed he should also call Sweets and Caroline.

"What the hell do you want at this hour?" Caroline asked in place of greeting when she answered on the first ring.

"Bones was hit by a car," Booth said in a monotone. It seemed like he'd said the words a million times that night. "She's at George Washington University Hospital in Emergency Surgery."

"I'll be right there," Caroling said. The line went dead. It was time to call Sweets.

"Dr. Sweets," he answered on the first ring. "How may I help you?"

Although Booth could tell that Sweets was tired, he hid it better than the others. He was every bit the professional that he was at work.

"It's Booth," Booth said. "Sweets, Bones was hit by a car. She's in Emergency Surgery at George Washington University hospital." Sweets started to ask a million questions, but Booth cut him off. "Look, I'll explain everything that I know when everyone gets here."

"I'll be right there," Sweets said. Then he also hung up.

Booth was left alone in the waiting room; the love of his life was fighting for her life in the OR; and finally, in the lonely silence, his mind wandered back to her last words.


	6. The Last Words

Booth was left alone in the waiting room; the love of his life was fighting for her life in the OR; and finally, in the lonely silence, his mind wandered back to the last words they had spoken.

"_Where the hell do you think you're going? Bones, you are not walking home like this. You don't even know what you're saying. Come on Bones, Hannah and I will drive you home." _

"_I am not going home. That would be like going to hell. And yes, I am walking—I'll walk wherever I want to. I am perfectly fine, and I know exactly—exactly Booth—what I am saying. Finally, I am not going anywhere with you." To Hannah: "Thank you for the lovely night. I actually enjoyed your companionship. I hope that you will think about what I have said. My evidence should be considered before it is thrown out." And back to him: "Hannah is still my friend, Agent Booth. However, you have said many times that what is between us is ours. I would appreciate if, in the future, you would stick to your promises. The same as I did."_

And then he realized, that could be the last conversation he ever had with her. He may never get the chance to set things right. He may never get to have her yell at him again. He couldn't even stand the thought.

"_However, you have said many times that what is between us is ours. I would appreciate if, in the future, you would stick to your promises. The same as I did." _

But what could she possibly mean? What happened between them _was _theirs. That was his stipulation, his idea…sure, he'd been mad when she'd shared that story with Hacker—he'd had every right to—but what right did she have to be angry with him? When had he ever…?

And just like that he knew. He had told Hannah about Bones's gamble. She had trusted him enough to let him see her regrets, and he had run off and betrayed her. He'd run and told Hannah and Sweets. And as if just telling wasn't enough, he'd known the whole time that it would completely embarrass her.

"_The same as I did."_

She had kept her end of the bargain. Though obviously everyone knew something had happened between them—no one could miss how out of sync they'd been…and then there was the whole running off to opposite sides of the world thing—as far as he could tell, no one knew exactly what had happened. She had honored his request that what was between them stayed theirs. He had broken the promise—the standard—that he himself had made. Realizing this opened his eyes to what his partner had been going through these past few months; what he had been putting her through. In his desperate attempt to move on, to forget the sting of her rejection, he had pushed her away. Now, seeing the past few months through her perspective, he realized that, to her, his actions must have seemed like a complete abandonment.

"_As we are not friends in our personal lives, as the evidence shows, I would prefer that you address me as a professional. Even on these rare occasions that we meet outside of work."_

At the time, he really hadn't understood these words. But now, sitting alone in the hospital waiting room, hoping—praying—that she would live, that she would be ok, he finally saw what he had done. He had done what he'd sworn never to do; he had disproved what he'd tried to prove to her for six years; he had become like the man who had hurt her the most, her father. And he didn't even have the excuse that it was for her own good. It had been for nothing more than his own selfish pride. He had gone so far that she didn't think they were even friends anymore. She thought she wasn't good enough—in her eyes, he'd _proved_ to her that she wasn't good enough; that she wasn't worth it.

All in all, he had done the exact opposite of what he'd always promised her he would do. That night, when she'd confessed her regret, he had become her. He'd used facts and logic while she spouted regrets and staticy messages from the universe. Though he hadn't been conscious of it at the time, he had wanted to hurt her, just a little, the same way she had hurt him: with the facts. But thinking back on that night outside the Hoover, he realized she hadn't used a single fact. Sure, she'd said she couldn't change, but did he even want her to? Had he asked her to? He knew he didn't want her to change. Besides, she'd already changed so much. Why hadn't he told her that?

He also realized that she'd been scared. With her past and everyone who'd left her after years of professing to love her, why wouldn't she think the same of him? And then he just had to go and prove her right. The more he thought about it, the more disgusted with himself he became.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when his phone rang. It was Cam.

"Booth," he answered.

"I'm just walking through the doors," she said.

"I'll let them know," he said. Then he hung up and did just that. Minutes later, Cam strode into the almost empty waiting room.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"It's—it's complicated," Booth said. He knew he was stalling, but he really didn't want to have to go over it more than once. "I'll give all the details once everyone gets here. The gist is that she was hit by a car when she was crossing the street. I really don't have any specifics on her condition."

"Well, they don't usually give confidential information out to random strangers," Cam said. Booth looked at her sharply and she held her hands up in defense. "I'm just saying they don't give information out to friends, and you barely have that claim over Dr. Brennan anymore."

He'd known this already—he'd just been beating himself up over it when she'd arrived—but to hear his long-time friend say it out loud was terrible.

"I'm not her emergency contact anymore Cam," he whispered. She looked at him, surprised.

"You really just found out? You didn't—she didn't _tell_ you?" she asked.

"You already knew?" he asked in return.

"Well, sure," Cam said. "She came to me a little over a month ago, wanting to discuss the rational choices for the role. I told her it was unnecessary—that you would always be there for her—but she just looked at me funny and said that no one was always there." She paused. "Now, why would she say that? I never thought much of it at the time, I just thought she was disputing the colloquium that I'd used, but maybe…but what could have possibly happened…" she trailed off as she looked at him. "Please…_please_ Seeley…tell me you didn't."

"I can't Cam," Booth said quietly. "I think I did."

"I told you to be sure. I told you that if she let you in and you left—"

"That she'd die alone before she ever let anyone else in that close again," Booth finished for her. Then his voice hardened, "You might very well be right."

"What did you do?" Cam asked. There were tears in her eyes as he admitted just how bad the situation really was.

"I asked her to take a chance on us, and she said no." Cam looked up at him.

"You asked for a _chance_?" she asked. "And what did you _think_ she would say? 'Sure, Booth! I'd love to gamble the most important relationship I've ever had on something I don't believe in, as long as there's a _chance_ that it'll work out!'?"

"What else was I supposed to say?" Booth asked, now on the defense.

"How about, 'I love you and even if you're not ready now, whenever you are, I'll be here'," Cam said. "And how about," she added, "you _prove _it to her." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at him. "Sorry, I know you're beating yourself up right now, and I don't need to make it worse. So the gist of it is that you told her you loved her, wanted to take a chance on you guys, and she said no because, let's see," Cam paused to think. "She doesn't have an open heart, she can't change, and she has to protect you from herself. Am I right?"

"Dead on," Booth said. "Except…well…I didn't actually tell her…I didn't say 'I love you'."

Cam closed her eyes and turned away from him. Her phone vibrated.

"Angela is here," she said. "Call downstairs and tell them to let her up."

He did as she asked and when he shut his phone, he turned to Cam.

"Cam…" he began.

"No, Seeley," she said still not looking at him. "I don't want to make it worse for you, so I just can't look at you right now."

To that, he had no reply. Then, Angela and Hodgins emerged from the elevator.

"Cam!" Angela cried. She ran and threw her arms around the other woman and cried. She raised her head and met his eyes. Surprise colored her features.

"Booth," she said. "What are you doing here?"

Her question was another piece of the puzzle in front of him. Even the squints had felt the distance between him and Bones. He bowed his head, ashamed.

"I was the first one…I mean I was on the scene and I rode in the ambulance with her…" he trailed off not knowing how to explain that night's events.

"How were you the first one there?" Angela asked. "You're not her emergency contact anymore."

This angered Booth.

"Did everyone _except me_ know that I'm not Bones's emergency contact person anymore? How the hell could she not tell me? Who does she think she is? After six years, she doesn't even mention it…" he said.

"She didn't want to bother you," Angela replied quietly, obviously restraining herself. "Personally, I wanted to _bother_ you plenty, but she told me not to. She just wanted you to be happy, Booth." Then muttered, "Not that you deserved that…or her…" under her breath.

Again, this angered Booth.

"And she thought that to be happy, she had to be out of my life?" he asked.

"Yes," Angela answered simply. "She was convinced that was what you wanted, and you sure didn't show or tell her otherwise." He started to argue, but Angela stopped him. "Look, Studly," she said. "We can get into this later. Right now, I want the whole story. What happened?"

Booth took a deep breath and began to tell them the whole story.

"Well," he began, "her and Hannah met for drinks to talk about…everything…"


	7. The Looks

**Hey all! I'm so sorry that it's been so long, but I don't think I have a legit excuse. I don't usually do Author's Notes (as those of you who regularly read my stories can attest to…), but I figured it was necessary to explain my… recent absence. To be completely honest, the show has offered absolutely NO inspiration. **_**NO ANGST!**_** And Bones is supposed to THRIVE on angst… Not that I don't love them together, it's just… the producers are portraying Brennan as weak and always wrong, and Booth just gets off as innocent? What? I'm sorry—don't get me wrong, I LOVE Booth—but he is NOT INNOCENT! **

**Okay, that's the rant of a disillusioned writer… Here's where I claim not to own anything… Um, DUH! If I owned it, Booth would have a LOT of explaining, begging, and apologizing to do. (Again, not that I don't love him!)**

**Okay! I'm done now! Enjoy and leave me a ****REVIEW****! You can even tell me you hate me for the loooooooong wait… (but I'd prefer it if you didn't) I hope this is enough angst for you! **

"Well," he began, "her and Hannah met for drinks to talk about…everything…"

Booth looked out at the people gathered, and suddenly, he was too overwhelmed to speak. Mustering the strength, he took a deep breath and continued determinedly looking at the ground and avoiding everyone's worried gazes—along with a few accusatory ones.

"She was… upset, and she stormed out of the Founding Fathers and I… followed her a moment later—I was slightly delayed, and I meant to give her a little space to… cool down…. But by then, I'd lost her in the streets. By the time I realized that she must have gone to the Jeffersonian, I was… too late."

He finally raised his eyes up to meet those of the people gathered there. In the tense, worried silence, he allowed his gaze to meet each one.

Angela met his gaze first, and he knew immediately that whatever else, she was not fooled by his half-hearted explanation. There was a promise in her eyes that he would be speaking with her later.

Tearing his gaze away from Angela, he looked to Hodgins, but he was busy gazing, concerned, at his wife. Booth looked to Sweets, but the good doctor was uncharacteristically looking away, for once not trying to ascertain Booth's innermost thoughts.

He looked to Cam and was not surprised at what he saw. She was frightened, yes; concerned, definitely; and yet there was something else in her eyes… disappointment. In him. Disappointment so sharp he had to look away.

Caroline was looking straight at him, as if she could see to his soul. Hers was not of sympathy, yet there was no accusation either. Only deep… pity, and worry. It was as if she could see everything and nothing important all at the same time.

A chuckle escaped him—whether from pent up tension, exhaustion, _whatever_—at the thought of what Bones would say to that thought. He could just picture her.

"_It is impossible for the mind to see everything and nothing, Booth. Those two concepts cannot exist in the same matter at the same time."_

As quickly as it came, however, the laughter left. In its stead, it left a deep ache. It was possible that Bones would never again say something so… _squinty_ to him. She may never come out of that surgery.

That thought was enough to cause his legs to give way beneath him. Luckily he was standing over a chair, so he landed on the edge ungracefully and he caught his head in his hands. He didn't know how long he stayed that way when the doors swung open and he looked up to see a man in a white lab coat striding toward him.

"Dr. Johnson," Cam greeted solemnly before Booth could speak. "How is Dr. Brennan?"

"Hello, Dr. Saroyan. She's made it through the surgery, but I'm afraid I can only discuss the specifics with Mr. Keenan. I was told that he rode in the ambulance with Dr. Brennan," the doctor said.

"I rode in the ambulance with Bones," Booth said, stepping forward.

The doctor gave him a confused look, but simply said, "Very well, Mr. Keenan. I'll just need to see your identification."

Booth sighed, "No, I'm not Max Keenan," he said. "My name is Seeley Booth. I am Dr. Temperance Brennan's partner, and I am—_was _her emergency contact for six years. _This_," he gestured to the people gathered behind him, "is her family."

"That may be, Mr. Booth," the doctor said firmly, "but her paperwork is clear. I'm afraid I will have to wait for Mr. Keenan's arrival."

Without another word, the doctor turned and walked back through the swinging doors. Booth turned back to his chair and visibly deflated into it. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his friends—his _family_—gathered around him.

"Max should be here… soon. I'm sure he'll update us then."

But his words sounded hallow, even to his own ears. There was no response.

"She's going to be okay." Again, there was no response.

"She _has _to be okay," he whispered to himself. "She just _has to._"

**Okay, I know it was short, but it was the best I could do. Please, leave me a review or a Personal Message! I'd love to hear ideas about where to take this. I'm toying around with a few ideas, so I'd love to hear what you all think! **

**Anywho, I'll wait a day or two for responses, then try to get another chapter up! Thanks for your patience, guys!**

**Blessings,**

**bookdiva**


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